


Law of Equivalent Exchange

by thunderdone



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Insomnia, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), My First Work in This Fandom, Nonbinary Link (Legend of Zelda), Not Beta Read, Pre-Calamity Ganon, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Trans Link (Legend of Zelda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderdone/pseuds/thunderdone
Summary: Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To gain, something of equal value must be given.Link is uncomfortable in his position. Zelda has become aware of her own discomfort. Together, though, they may lessen the burden on one another.
Relationships: Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 99





	Law of Equivalent Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out to be a bit more wander-y than I wanted it to be. I keep writing this whenever I can't sleep because I Project My Experiences And Emotions Onto Characters. I took a year or so break from writing but now that I'm Socially Isolated and Desperate For Affection, I'm Back On My Bullshit. Hope you enjoy!

Link gets about two hours a day to part from his protective duties and do as he pleased. When sanctioned inside the castle, he would sometimes venture beyond the walls, into Castle Town, look at the wares being sold (especially by the jeweler; not as nice as anything Gerudo-made, but beautiful nonetheless), perhaps get ingredients to make a meal just for himself, a treat he often didn't have the space for. 

Or perhaps he'd find a cozy windowsill of the library to shut his eyes in, feel the warmth of the sun and a little fresh air while cooped up all day. That is, he would try to sleep; it never came to him easily. Perhaps thrice a week he would be lucky and be able to find an hour or two there, but the likelihood of that was always quite low. Bathing was usually toward the bottom of his list of "things to do with time off, necessary but uncomfortable".

Out here, though, traveling from town to town, city to city, surveying the land as they did every five years, there was much less to do, few ways to pass the time. Hunting was an option, but standing still, crouched down, waiting for some poor creature to come forth only to die? While necessary, never made him feel food. 

Gathering mushrooms? Just... kind of boring. There wasn't enough movement. The troops would be busy, so he couldn't exactly spar with any of them, and he'd bet his life on the fact that none of them would want to.

Most of the troops were scattered between around Kincean Island, setting up tents for the night before tomorrow's trek to the Zora kingdom. The day had been filled with the survey of Goponga Village; talking to the people there, counting their population, their wellbeing (considering the slow growth of monstrous attacks over the past few months). Or, at least, that's what the soldiers and Zelda did. He stood and watched. 

Sure, he kind of listened, but if you asked him what he had learned, he was already a blank slate, memory of anything already clean. 

So, with the gathering twilight, there wasn't much else left for him to do. Once Zelda sat down for their evening meal, accompanied by several trusted advisors and more than enough guards, Link slipped out, sneaking away to Boné pond; not near enough to be seen, not far enough to leave them unprotected. Stripping down, he drove into the pond surfacing only to pin his hair up. He scrubbed his skin, trying to rid himself of the day's toll on his body, although the sting on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears told him, perhaps, the sun had left some more semi-permanent reminders. Once satisfied, though, he let himself float, unbothered by the brush of the occasional fish against his calf, or the murky slime of water weeds. 

Peace washed over him, and he gazed up at the stars, watched the way they gathered their strength in the darkness, bit by bit filling the sky, absolutely teeming, filling it to the bursting point. They pressed so close to one another, some blurring, one into another, two small cells joining together, yet in reality, millions of miles away from one another. Neither probably knew of the other's existence, nor did they care. They just were, existing with, without the burden of feeling seen, without the pressure to really know one another. 

"Link! I was wondering where you had wandered off to."

Startled, he thrashed in the water for a moment before he discovered himself to be treading water, upright again. So much for his break. Zelda stood beside the pond, and he almost thought she was smirking. If he didn't know better, that is, he would think that exactly. 

He was stuck where he was, unsure what to do. To swim toward the shore would be to expose himself, yet to stay here, he couldn't speak at all. She spoke again before he could even give credence to either option: "This is a wonderful little spot you've found, private but in plain sight. I'm sorry I've interrupted your meditation. I needed a break of my own from all of the bearucratic talk today." He didn't have the guts (or physical ability) to tell her he wasn't meditating. Vaguely, he lifted one hand, waving off her apology; a struggle considering how wildly he had to kick to still keep himself afloat. 

He watches as she crouches down beside the water, letting her knees dig into the sand, pushing her sleeves up her arms before thrusting both hands into the water. Frowning, he says nothing, watching her dig into the sand for a moment before producing a rather large, slightly glowing snail. He can't help but pedal back a few strokes, feeling just a bit safer, more out of sight. 

"Sneaky river snails," she states confidently, "There was a book in the library that said they begin to thrive more frequently the closer you get to the Zora domain. I wanted to see if that was still true. At night they glow a strange yellow." She rests the snail on the shore, before she digs back into the water. Just like he always does, Link says nothing, allowing the silence to envelop them both for the few minutes she hunts, and the moon begins to rise behind the mountains, slowly bathing them in more light. 

"I have a favor to ask of you when you return to the campgrounds." Zelda states this without looking up; it even takes Link a few seconds to process she's speaking to him and may expect a response. Before he can do that, though, she speaks again; "I'll meet you in my tent, of course. It's not a pressing matter, so please, take your time." She raises slightly from her knees to rest on her toes, scooping up the several snails she had found. "It's a... private. Matter. So I'm glad I was able to catch you out here."

Ah. So there it was. The real reason she had come searching for him. All this had been strange, and part of him knew there must have been more to it. He hadn't necessarily wanted to admit that to himself. 

Obediently, almost mechanically, he nods, before remembering the gathering twilight, and raising a thumbs up to her. She nods back to him, standing upright, posture perfect even now. "Good," she mumbles matter-of-factly, paused for a moment before she turns and begins to walk back toward the campsite. 

He watches her, slowly padding over to the bank, standing half submerged until he was certain she wouldn't see him. Gazing up at the moon, he steps out of the water, picking up the blue shirt he wore all that day. 

Patting down his body with it, slowly, he lets a breath out, realizing how tense he had been. Zelda understood his worries, talked them over with him last week after she apologized for her former treatment of him. But she still didn't get all of it. He wasn't sure when he'd mind that changing. 

Once he felt satisfactorily dry, he tugs on an older shirt and trousers (too short), shouldering his sword and tucking his other shirt in his pocket, bare footed, eager to put his earrings back in at the camp, and maybe get some food in himself.

———

He pushes back the flap of Zelda's tent, dropping his things beside a chair in the corner, watching her for a moment, scribbling in a journal. It takes her a few seconds to see him (or at least acknowledge him), unsurprisingly. She shoves the book away, taking a snail off of her lap (which he is only just now noticing).

"Link! Thank you for joining me," she says, before standing, stepping outside of the tent. His eyes follow her, leaning onto his toes to peek through the gap in the tent flaps. She speaks with her hands on her hips, returning inside after only a few moments, the guards disappearing from either side of the entryway. Once back inside, she freezes, apparently listening intently for a few seconds. 

Satisfied, she approaches him, with the biggest smile he's seen all day from her. Gripping both of his arms in her hands, she whispers, "You cut your own hair, yes?"

Link raises an eyebrow. 

"Oh, shush, just answer the question."

Is it that obvious? 

"No."

He finger spells: Maybe. 

"Perfect. I want you to cut my hair for me. By like... a foot. I just need it to my shoulders, something more practical for us being out here in the wilderness." She lets him go, as he stares back at her, unenthused. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

Link does nothing. 

Huffing out an exaggerated sigh, she folds her arms, pulling out the big guns: "Don't make me order you, Solider."

There's a beat of silence. 

Before Link snorts, and ends up beginning to laugh quietly. It's infectious, and quickly spreads to Zelda, who lowers her arms, resting against the pole of the tent to steady herself. "I would! Stop laughing!"

Link shakes his head, pulling out a small Gerudo dagger. His laughter may have audibly subsided for now, but the smile wasn't wiped off his face. "You wouldn't," he says, voice soft, barely there, as he sits down behind her. 

He flattens his hand, perpendicular to her back, placing it down to the bottom of her shoulder blades. Before he could even ask, she shook her head.

"A little higher, if you please." He nods, raising it by an inch or so. Zelda, huffing out a short breath, reaches back and takes his hand, placing it high on her back. "Here."

"Ah. Short," he mumbles, taking the knife and a section of hair, beginning to carefully slice. 

"Jealous?" 

"As if."

He's quiet as he works, focused intensely, more so than he... probably ever has really been on cutting hair. He's a big fan of the, "oops" method, where he messes up, cuts it too short, and says "oops" and then just keeps cutting it shorter until, at some point, it's almost even enough to be mistaken for even. Almost. In his heart, though, he knew Zelda wouldn't appreciate that. Her precision and careful collection of her own image was essential to her role as princess, something he would never envy.

"So. Execution?" Link asks, brushing most of the hair from his legs onto the ground. 

"Hm? For me?"

"No, me. Once the king sees." He gestures vaguely with his knife toward her head, immediately thankful she didn't (yet) have eyes in the back of her head.

"Oh, no," she says, laughing quietly, but remaining relatively still. "You know nothing about my haircut. Okay? I borrowed your knife while you were sleeping. You'll be surprised when you see me tomorrow, with short hair. Or at least... as surprised as you get." Link fluffs his fingers through her hair a few times before she turns around, holding a hand out. He passes her his knife, yawning and slouching forward, tugging at his shirt. 

Turning it about in her hands, Zelda stares at her reflection. A much different smile graces her face this time; a smile of recognition he never saw there before, but felt deep in his bones. He understood. 

"Thank you," she says quietly, passing the knife back. "It looks perfect.... I'm surprised. Well done." He snorts and rolls his eyes, taking the knife back and sheathing it before dropping it with his clothes. Link sits down on the chair left off to the side for him, before searching in his pack for his file and his spare rag. 

Together, they return to their work, in comfortable silence; Zelda to her studies, and Link to his blade. This sword never really truly needed to be sharpened or polished; never once had he found it feeling any less than perfect, either by accident or on purpose. But still, the process was calming. He moved from the sword, to his Gerudo knife, to a tri-boomerang he kept around more for kicks than for use. All his training made him a sucker for cool blades, what could he say. 

–––

The night gathered further, and around midnight, judging by the moon's arc, Zelda stood, traveling behind a small panel to change into a light nightdress. Upon her reemergence, she looked to Link. 

"Are you planning on actually sleeping tonight, or are you going to continue being a bit of a gargoyle?" She folds her clothes carefully, dropping them on top of their bag. Although she didn't look at him directly, he could feel her eyes on him, and knew he was in for another tug of wills with her. 

He signs rapidly, just with his fingers, Gargoyle.

Zelda plops down on her cot mattress, patting the area beside her, one arm behind her head. "Shirk your duties tonight, Gargoyle. I can't have you falling asleep mid-interview tomorrow, now can I?" 

Link nods, grinning at the idea. Yet he still stands for her, laying down with the full intention of getting back up once she was asleep. It was that easy, right? She stares at him intensely, narrowing her eyes, before rolling onto her back, closing her eyes. And for a few minutes, he thinks he's safe. 

Slowly, he rolls onto one side, testing the waters to see if, maybe, he can slip away to sharpen his sword more. Or work on his maps. Or something. Be productive, at least, even if he can't sleep. 

Immediate he feels a hand on his bicep, not quite gripping, but holding him there. The mattress shifts, and he feels Zelda looking down at him. Eyes focused on the tent canvas directly across from where he lays, Link does not move. Barely, even, he looks at her out of his periphery. Her hand loosens somewhat, becoming gentle, brushing up and down his arm, then up to his shoulder, kneading, once it gets there, searching. 

"Link, you're so tense." He finally looms up at her, huffing his hair out of his eyes as he gazes up at her, raising an eyebrow. "No wonder you never sleep, your body is never prepared to."

Link brings a hand to his face, screwed up for just a moment to carefully phrase what he wants to say; What the hell does that mean? 

"Okay, take your shirt off, it'll be easier to explain."

Link flips Zelda off, half smiling. 

"Okay! Fine! Then I won't break it down for you to understand. It'll be long and painful." She jams her fingers into his shoulder muscle, close to his armpit. Immediately, a strange, strangled laugh comes out of him, and he tenses his back, arching forward as he twists to get away from the feeling. 

"You're more of a queen than I am," she mutters, grabbing him and pulling him back toward the center of the mattress. Whining, Link grabs back at the edge, pouting. She's gentler, this time, pressing her fingers to his shoulderblade. "I want you to focus on right here. Focus your energy, your mind. And tell me how it feels."

It feels like you're about to pierce me with your nails and I'm going to die of some sort of infection. She doesn't even respond to that. Rolling his eyes he begins to concentrate more (or at least tell himself he is. In reality, he's focused more on the fact that he doesn't want to be called out in this fashion), and slowly he realizes that she, maybe, was right. 

There is a lot of tension left in his body. When he thinks about his shoulders, he realizes they're still guarded, hardened and prepared for something that won't come this late at night, nothing is imminent at this moment. It takes a lot of work, but he releases the tension in his shoulders, bit by bit. 

"See? Isn't that better? It's not just your shoulders either, now is it?" Link quietly grunts in return, beginning to push his face into the pillow.

"Like your jaw?" She says, defining each word.

She's right. 

Bit by bit, he tries to let himself go, loosen his jaw from grinding his teeth, loosen it more from there so it hangs a big more slack, loosen it more so his lips are pursed less. Yet even then, he feels the fingers in his shoulder again, and realizes he tensed those back up. 

"Try starting with your legs and moving up. I've found that because we sit more, and our legs dangle freely more than our shoulders, it's easier to relax them and keep them relaxed." Her voice feels quieter than before to him, a little farther away than before. Nodding, he takes her advice, stretching his legs out before pulling them in more, going muscle by muscle, imagining them being picked apart, pulled taut then squished together again. Over and over, finally closing his eyes, getting used to Zelda's soft touch. 

Zelda feels his shoulder relax beneath her hand again. And, after waiting a few minutes, she does not feel it tense again. Leaning forward, she watches the way his chest rises and falls, counting, in her head. Fast asleep already, poor guy must really have needed it.

Taking it slowly, making sure she doesn't jostle Link too much, she lays back down, back to back with him, before she snuffs out the lantern, whispering a "good night".


End file.
